


The Right Answer To The Wrong Questions

by Sugar_and_Salt



Series: Questions & Answers [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Real Life, Romance, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:50:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_Salt/pseuds/Sugar_and_Salt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Live Broadcast - No fraud! Take your chance! Dial the following number:' - "Today we'll have some exclusive prices that will surely make you all excited!" - "Don't hesitate to call me!"   -   Chanyeol held many answers. Still, he was missing the most crucial ones. And he wouldn't call. Not ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Right Answer To The Wrong Questions

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Crossposted from AFF ~
> 
> I hope you enjoy my first ever fic set in real life!  
> It's inspired by JoyDreamers version of "Echo", a vocaloid song.  
> I originally posted it with a trigger warning so if you're sensitive regarding depressions I advise you not to read it?  
> Anyway, have fun ♥
> 
> P.S.: part 2(Baekhyun's side of the story) is gonna be up soon!

  
It was half past 3 in the morning when Chanyeol returned home. His apartment was dark and cold; the heating was always the first to be cut off. With a casual flick he switched on the dim light of the energy-saving lamp that always took it's sweet time to react. Two, three... Four seconds. When it finally settled on a dull yellow light, he had already pulled off his worn-off working shoes and was halfway into the living room. Before he even discarded his padded jacket, he had already reached for the remote and turned on the TV. Immediately bright artifical light and noise flooded the otherwise dark room and without tearing his gaze from the almost antique-looking TV-set he took of his jacket.

On screen, there was an overly colorful setting that reeked of cheap furniture and cardboard walls. Everything looked new and unused, although it hadn't changed a bit in over two years. Maybe they'd had a number of the exact same looking props done. In the front to the left stood the basic-looking clipboard with a number of lines and letters. So it was 'Hangman' time today. Rows of colorful letterings were running across the screen, announcing clisheed things like  
_'Win 50.000 won for every correct letter, 150.000 for the complete word!'  
'Live Broadcast - No fraud! Take your chance! Dial the following number-'  
'Hint: Kitchen utensil'_  
Chanyeol knew most of the stereotype announcements by heart, though he only spent a fraction of his time actually reading them through.  
His eyes were too occupied with the dazzling host of the show.

_"I know it's difficult with such few letters, but don't hesitate to call~!"_

Today his blonde hair was styled in a slightly curly and youthful way and he wore an obnoxiously colorful dress shirt, adding up an unrealistic number of years to his appearance. It was obvious that the the TV station was responsible for his appearance - no one in their right mind would wear a checked shirt with dots. If he hadn't been so fixed on his face, he might have gotten dizzy just by looking at it. He could spot the thick layer of make up and very subtle highlighting of the eyes, to give off a 'natural' vibe.

_"I used to play hangman at school. There was this one trick we would always result to, did you guys do that as well? What? Haha, I can't give it away!"_

All of this might not sound overly attractive, but for Chanyeol this man was pure perfection. He was able to look beneath the layers of cheap BB creme and shabby fabric. All he saw was a bright smile, eyes that would twinkle whenever he cracked a badly scripted joke and a cute nose that would scrunch up whenever a caller gave a wrong answer.  
He could see the beauty in the young television host that was Baekhyun.  
He would never be able to tell whether others could see it, too.  
Still, he was a little different from those other pitiful creatures that were staring at the screen in the middle of the night. For he knew not only Baekhyun, the TV host, but also _Byun Baekhyun_ , the guy that lived next door.

_"Ah, a kitchen utensil with two a's in it... I hope the men in front of the screen will be able to guess it! We wouldn't want to look clueless in front of all the loving wives, would we?"_

So maybe he had never actually talked to him.  
But he had thrown a glance on his name plate. Having an interest in his neighbours name was nothing to worry about, after all. Watching him on his nightly quizshows(which was kind of like watching him at his job) for hours and hours was probably much more unsettling. The cute blonde had no idea that Chanyeol was even aware of his job, let aside that he actually watched him. It would be so awkward. Still, Chanyeol refused to let go of the only routine he had.  
So he let the young man do his thing( _"You know, I also cook a lot at home -it's not only a woman's thing-  and I can assure you I have already used this tool~"_ ), as he went for the bathroom to take a shower. Since the heating was off it was ice-cold, causing him to shake and cringe under the bitingly cold stream of water as he hurriedly rinsed his hair and washed away the disgusting smell of smoke, beer and sweat.  
He hurriedly threw on all the clean pyjamas he could find to hug his lanky, shivering frame. Lately he had been feeling kind of achy and sore. He wasn't sure if his job was more straining than usual or whether it was due to his recent loss of weight. Maybe his muscles were just tense.  
Making himself a cup of hot chocolate with the instant powder he had bought weeks ago with his last money he thanked the gods once again for investing into a second-hand microwave years ago. He huddled himself into his only blanket and settled down on the couch, clutching the hot cup tightly. It wasn't actually a meal, but it was hot and full of artificial sugar. Surely his body could be tricked into thinking it was actual food.

_"Actually... YES, we got an S! Would you like to guess the complete word?"_

 

* * *

 

Chanyeol hadn't always been such a loner. Actually he used to be that one guy everyone was friendly with. But when times got more and more tough people distanced themselves, unwilling to share their time and empathy - since it was just 'Park Chanyeol', that random colleague. Still, there was one guy who would stay by his side. He wasn't even sure what he'd had done without him. When he barely reached his graduation, he was beside him. He consoled him after his first break-up, was by his side when he got the university's rejection and never failed to encourage him on his fruitless job hunting.  
But ever since his friend had moved to America one year ago, he had quickly separated ties with him. No matter how many messages Chanyeol would send him, he would get nothing more than the disappearance of the yellow '1', signalising he had indeed seen the message but chosen not to answer.  
As time went by he began to realize that he had probably been nothing but a burden to him.  
Still, he was eager to prove that he hadn't ever taken advantage of his kindness and kept contacting him without ever mentioning the trouble that was piling up day by day.  
And so Park Chanyeol learnt about true friendship the hard way.  
Because he only ever learnt things the hard way, or so it seemed.

'Can't you take a hint?  
I don't have time for silly chatting anymore.  
Unlike you, I've found myself an occupation'

And Chanyeol stared at the message.

_"Come on guys~  A rhyme on 'lazy', you can do it! And remember, we've already dismissed 'crazy', so try to think of another one-"_

" ** _Hazy_**...", Chanyeol mumbled. For that was exactly what he felt at that moment. The heavy pressure of an upcoming headache blended together with his blurry vision.  
That night, he hid under his blanket so that Baekhyun wouldn't see his pathethic tears.

 

* * *

 

_"Today's quiz is really easy, believe me~ Today it's all about food. Please name whatever you think has the highest percentage of fat - The food with the highest percentage will win at the end of this night~"_

"Chanyeol, are you still on?"  
"Yes, mother."  
"Did you fill out the forms for the business administration course?"  
"Uhm, actually-"  
"Urgh, WHY don't you just do it? Can't you finally come to terms with the fact that you're not suited for this singing thing-"  
"It was composing."  
"Singing, composing, you won't find a job with either of that! Can't you see I'm worried for you? Why are you making this so hard? Stop being immature, just for once!"  
"Uh, mom?"  
"What is it?"  
Chanyeol fidgeted with his blanket nervously.  
"Actually... it's just... I'm kinda running low on money and wanted to ask whether you could maybe support me a little, just for this month-"  
"Well, you know the business has been in trouble lately. Why are you even asking, you know I got nothing."  
"Oh... Sure. Sorry."  
"I thought you have a job?"  
"I do! It's just that-"  
"Ah, that's our call. Sorry honey, gotta go, the pizza just arrived, talk to you later! If they forgot the wine again-"  
A beeping sound resounded in his ear as the call was ended.  
For the longest time he listened to the sound before the cheery voice of Baekhyun washed it away.

_"Welll, cake is usually more on the sugary side, but alright~ You can do better guys, just name me some really greasy stuff~!"_

"... _ **Pizza**_.", Chanyeol whispered, watching the screen with a hollow gaze.  
"Hamburger. Fried bacon. Whipped cream. Crossaints..."  
Today, as well, he chugged the plastic bottle he had filled with tab water, hoping it would somehow fill his stomache.

 

* * *

 

_"So it's all about celebrities today! That must be one of your specialities, no?"_

Today, Baekhyun looked exceptionally tired.  
Even on good days Chanyeol was able to see the growing dullness in his eyes, but today? The make up artist had done a terrible job at covering up the dark circles under his eyes.  
Temporarily forgetting his own trouble, he fidgeted with his blanket as he thought about all the problems Byun Baekhyun might have. What had caused him to end up in one of those miserable TV quizshows? Did he have friends and support unlike Chanyeol? A significant other - unlike Chanyeol?  
Or maybe this didn't matter all that much. Since in the end they were the same.  
A strong desire to help him washed over him. But what could HE possibly do?  
Almost homeless, spineless, no-good Chanyeol.

When Baekhyun returned from work in the late morning hours that day he found a lone paper crane sitting in front of his door.  
It was made from some random-looking paper and sat on another piece of paper that read:

**1/1000**

The blonde was trying to figure out whether he should be creeped out or smile at the sign of acknowledgement of his existence.  
When he turned the paper and it read "Fighting!!" in a clumsy handwriting, he settled on the second option.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Chanyeol would think back to those rare moments where he met Baekhyun in the hallway or in front of the post boxes. From close up, he looked even more tired. But to Chanyeol he looked dazzling anyway. And even though exhausted, he always had a tired smile for him.  
It wasn't wide like the one on television but a genuine smile nonetheless. And while the lanky guy tried to convey all his affection and support through his own smile, he found himself living for those brief encounters.  
He didn't even consider approaching him further - since that would be rude, right? As a stranger it was not his business, not his place to be.  
But then again, where WAS his place to be?

_"Let's talk about a common phrase today~! It goes liiii~ke: 'Home is where-'...  
 I'm SURE you've heard that one before! 'Home is where-'..."_

"... **Your heart is**."  
And as he blankly stared at his ceiling, he felt nothing but tired and empty.

 

* * *

  
Chanyeol's days had somewhere along high school begun to fly by.  
When had it become this way?  
He would head out in the late morning, already clad in his waiter-uniform, return whenever the event he was working on ended, sit in his run-down room and work on a few tracks for his mixtape, so he could soon apply at an Art school. Maybe, if he could get a scholarship... Or if he just worked enough, he would be able to make it. He didn't want his life to end this way, as a part-timer.  
Even during his work at the mixtape when he'd be wearing his old and heavy headphones, Chanyeol would never switch off the TV, though. He couldn't hear his neighbours angelic voice, but the vivid flickering of the screen and his movements gave him the illusion of some life in the otherwise dark apartment.

As he worked himself closer to the school's deadline, he began to feel like his life was running in a time lapse mode. Hazily rushing by in a blur of colors. His beeping mobile phone alarm, the old red toothbrush, his bulky old jacket, shiny working shoes, a forced smile, dark streets, dark apartment, his project, Baekhyun, and falling asleep on his couch just to start all over again. Everything seemed to repeat itself again and again.  
Why did nothing change?  
Everyday he would look at his shiny working shoes and wonder when he'd ever be able to buy _himself_ a new pair of shoes. But he'd never do it. Those thoughts, those wishes had become part of the routine.  
Chanyeol was tired, oh so tired.  
And he asked himself whether Baekhyun was also tired when he saw him standing in the same studio ever night, smiling and laughing over and over again.

 

* * *

 

When he finally handed in his application and got his first few hours of sleep in weeks, the dreams came back as well.  
Chanyeol was well-aware of the fact that he was stressed and falling apart with every passing day, so it came to no surprise at all. Still, whenever he found himself trapped in their old apartment with his mother crying silently, he would flinch in his sleep at every loud bang against the door downstairs.  
He never heard the exact words his father yelled. What he did hear crystal-clear, however, was the never-ceising ringing of the phone as his father kept on calling. Sometimes his mother would smash the phone but since it was a dream it did a poor job on outdrowning the sounds.  
Those dreams were all the same. Even though technically nothing happened, he felt tense and on edge. And at one point his mother would answer the phone, holding it down to his ear with her shaking hands.  
Chanyeol didn't want to hear it. But his mother looked so broken and he was willing to help her in any way he could.  
So he would always take in the menacingly calm voice in his ear.  
"You can't hide up there forever, you know? I'm gonna find you one day. And if I don't, I'll just burn down this house to get you out. And if you don't, then that's it."  
Chanyeol didn't cry.  
He didn't back then and he didn't now, in his sleep. Still, whenever he woke up feeling tense and restless with the echo of a mobile phone ringing in his ears, the wary feeling in his stomache was all-too present.  
As if it was announcing something bad.

 

* * *

 

_"Today I'm sexy Baek with a music-related quiz~! Let's play some shiritori with song titles! So if I'm gonna start with Timberlake's "Sexy Back", you could continue with... Yeah, right, with something like "Back in Town" from Hollywood Undead! Oh, but now I gave the first away, right...? Ahaha, it's okay, though - Whoever calls first will get the doubled price money, then! So don't be shy~"_

Actually Chanyeol would've liked to say he had sexual fantasies about Baekhyun.  
That he got off of the image of the slim figure writhing under him in the dead of the night. But he didn't. He was yearning for the delicately-framed boy, oh he was. But his imagination wasn't even skillful enough to provide him with vivid images.  
The reason for that was obvious: He didn't know him.  
Would he be pleading or pushing him, go slow and sweet or rough and needy...  
He couldn't imagine it at all. It wasn't helping that his infatuation went far deeper than physical attraction. There was no ideal image he had in mind to force onto him; he would be pleased with any way of love-making that would suit the blonde.

_"EXO's Playboy? That's one **hot** so-Ah, nice. I said nice song. Pshh, don't tell my boss I said that~!"_

After all, he wouldn't want to sate his own needs only.  
Still, in a way Chanyeol laughed about himself for not even being able to pleasure himself like any other normal person.  
Instead he kept thinking. Always wishing, speculating, _thinking_ , back and forth.

_"Boy in Luv by BTS? That one's great, but can you follow up with a song starting with 'luv', like the cool kids spell it? Come ooon, you can do it~"_

Maybe, he thought, it was far more sick to think about it like that. Maybe, if he was normal, he would have just wished to fuck him.  
But he wasn't normal. And even thinking the crude, hypothethical thought made him shudder and scrunch his nose in disgust at the disrespect.

_"LuvUHaters? Nice one! Though there are no spaces, we'll overlook that, as a reward for not telling on me earlier...!"_

Or maybe he himself was disgusting. Was he being a deranged stalker already?  
The confusion send his head spinning and he let himself fall back on his couch, huddling in the blanket. He closed his eyes to let the bright lights of the TV dance against the dark of his vision.

_"Anyone there? Hellooo~? There must be a song, I know you guys know a lot of songs...! Don't hesitate to call and let me know~!"_

Who was he trying to deceive, anyway?  
He didn't only want to _give_ love.  
Well, he didn't mind giving love, not at all. He would even find enjoyment in showering the blonde with affection.  
But he heard the tiny voice in the back of his head all-to-well, and while his imagination seemed to freeze at the thought of naked Baekhyun, it was never short of images of the shorter one smiling or drawing him into a hug just to stay unmoving except for a hand that would pet his messy hair.  
That day, as well, Chanyeol hugged his blanket tightly as he dozed off to the sound of Baekhyun laughing and making bad puns.

 

* * *

 

The day when the Art school's rejection arrived, Chanyeol felt like crying wouldn't even do it anymore. He would have loved to stuff himself or maybe to puke, just to do something, anything at all.  
But he had no food, no distraction, no company.  
He showered until his whole body was a shivering mess, drank water until he felt sick and hissed when he accidentally  stepped into a glass shard of the picture frame he had thrown against the wall weeks ago. Chanyeol was no masochist. Still, he was searching for something to feel. But even though the pain was there and fairly unpleasantly so, it didn't change anything.  
It didn't change the fact that he was pathethic.  
By now he wasn't even sure if he was just a self-loathing idiot or whether the world was actually exceptionally cruel to him. Maybe he was imagining things, he thought as he sat on the couch, grasping the blanket so tightly it hurt.  
Maybe this was the way the world was supposed to be and he was the only loser who wasn't able to handle it.  
He knew that drowning in self-pity was not the way to go. But what WAS the correct way, then?  
For weeks he had been angry and frustrated, smashing things whenever the emotions got the better of him.

  
But that evening he just lay there, deadly quiet and unmoving as he emptily stared at the screen where Baekhyun made the audience guess capital cities.

 

* * *

 

_"Hello Ladies and Gentleman! Did you miss me a lot? I bet you diii~d! Today we'll have some exclusive prices that will surely make you all excited!"_

Chanyeol's shoes had been carelessly thrown around the entrance area with one lying against the wall and the other almost in the kitchen. There were dark red stains tainting the worn-out leather soles. Even though he had bandaged it to his best ability, the glass had cut him too deep and walking around for 10 hours had naturally caused the wound to open up again.  
You don't need to come back anymore.  
You've been slacking off recently anyway.  
We're currently sorting out our whole staff.  
Chanyeol let out a snort as he smiled at the ridiculosity of it all.  
Sorting out, bullshit. Maybe the middle-aged married woman that had been calling herself his boss was happy now. Now that the taunting figure of the young worker who rejected her advances was finally out of her sight. It took a lot of waiting, but now that he had limped around the whole day, giving a reason to complain, why not take it on the spot?  
Yeah, maybe he had improved another person's life today.  
Chanyeol laughed in bitterness as he sat on the hard floor, leaning his upper body on the couch. What now? Where could he possibly find a new job that quickly?  
He looked at the letter in his hand. It had a seal and couldn't possibly mean anything good. But ignoring it was no option either and so he opened it and slowly pulled out the papers where the fat black letters mercilessly announced his eviction without notice.  
  
The following silence was only cut by the noise of the TV.

_"It's gonna be all about history today! A late-night history lesson, so to say. No one shall say watching TV makes you stupid anymore~"_

Eviction without notice.  
Losing his job.  
Being rejected by the Art school.  
Having no future.  
Having no friends.  
Having nothing, really.  
  
He shook his head in disbelief.  
The heavy fact sank in, washing away everything and leaving behind a blank space with nothing but three letters.  
Why.  
_...Why?_  
Chanyeol didn't understand.  
Why him?  
WHY?  
Did he do something wrong? Yeah, surely he did, but did he really deserve all of this?  
All the small mistakes you make in life, did they justify all of this?  
His fingers clenched around the paper, crumpling it.  
  
This was it.  
Finally, this was it. He had enough.  
His breathing became heavy and irregular.  
There was no sweet-talking anymore, no calming down. His whole life had been a race and whenever some  problem would pass by him just to hit him brutally in the process, he never had time to rest and assess the damage. Because the next matter was always following closely behind.  
But now, the very last one had struck him... To pass by.  
There was nothing left. He would be the last in this race.  
He had lost.

He hadn't given up until the very end, he had fought. But it was no good. He just wasn't good enough.  
Now he was left to stare at the shambled remains of himself in utter disbelief.  
When did it begin? How long had it been since he'd had a rest?  
He was so tired.  
He used to feel that splitting headache during work, the stomache sickness whenever the pressure got too much, the lethargy, frustration, anger.  
Now the only thing left was fatigue.  
He had thrown things, smashed all the mirrors he possessed, cried his eyes out, encouraged himself and faced the world with a smile, forced his body to work, never attempted to harm those around him, but nothing _ever_ changed.  
Every evening he had to tell himself reasons to get up the next day. And it increased: the number of nights when he couldn't find a single one.  
When the sole thing he could have come up with was-  
  
_"Come ooo~n, maybe you've seen this in a movie or something?"_

Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun.  
It was ridiculous, really. Obsessive. Chanyeol snorted at his piteous self.  
He was one sick individual, wasn't he?  
Maybe his life had shaped him that way. Or maybe he was just trying to point fingers again, desperately trying to hide his own faults.  
And again he was turning in circles. His thoughts were leading nowhere. And as his body seemed to know the routine like clockwork, the headache came back, painfully pulsing to the beat of his heart, the pounding growing quicker by the second.  
Breathing seemed to become harder, as if something inside of him had crumpled up his lungs, not unlike the paper in his hand.  
It wasn't his fault, was it? So why did they all say otherwise?  
His mother said it was his fault, his boss said it was his fault and this paper said it was his fault.  
He stared at it angrily as his vision blurred the fat ugly letters together, taking the meaning out of the black dots of ink.  
Even that little, trivial, stupid piece of paper was allowed to look down on him. To mock him.  
Even that cheap sheet of recycled trash could easily press him into the corner a little harder, asphyxiate him just a little more.  
Why was this even possible?  
It was just a piece of paper.  
Just a damn, fucking piece of paper.  
  
_"There is also the very, very well-known tale of Joan D'arc, have you heard of it? Hey, I'm just trying to help you out here, just a little pointer~"_  
  
He aggressively crumpled up the paper that had flipped down the undermost card of the fragile cardhouse that was his life with nothing but a taunting laugh.  
Of course it wasn't enough.  
It wasn't nearly enough to weigh up to the frustration in his head. Angrily he ripped it apart. Once. Twice. Thrice.  
He threw the remains down, only for them to fall to the floor in an unsatisfyingly peaceful way.  
It was ridiculing him.  
Not only the paper. The world was ridiculing him.  
Laughing at the joke that everyone but he understood. Laughing at his miserable life.  
By now his breath was hitching and his fingers had left crescent moon shaped marks where he dug them into his arms.

_"Just try your luck~ Call me and tell me how people tried to kill witches - there were several ways but we're going with the most common one, so try to think of what you heard most~!"_

And then, in just that moment, Park Chanyeol finally snapped.  
The pulsing pain numbed his thoughts and left nothing but a flurry of subliminal memories, wishes and thoughts to rush through his blood where they created a loud static noise in his head - filled with the echoes that had been edging themselves into his heart for such a long time already.

The shrill sound of his phone screen that announced his boss calling.  
His mother's phone ringing.  
Threats whispered into his ear.  
Lonely, cold nights.  
"I'll just burn down this house to get you out. And if you don't-"  
"You're such a handsome thing, come on. It'd be a waste. It might do wonders for your upcoming raise, too..."  
"I got an occupation, unlike you."  
"I'll just burn down this house."  
"Stop being immature, just for once!"  
      **"I'll burn it down."**

_"How did they try to kill a witch?"_

 

"With _ **fire**_...", he breathed slowly.  
Something inside him jerked and he frantically got up to reach into his working clothesbag in search of the lighter. When his fingers grasped the smooth white surface bearing the company's tacky logo, he smiled.  
Finally this thing did something useful. Shakily he crouched down to the floor, shifting aside everyting to create an open space. With hasty movements he pushed the shredded paper into the middle and before he knew what was happening, the paper was burning. His mind would usually be clear enough to burn it in the sink, but since he was too tired to properly fix his appearance anymore and too tired to do the dishes, he was also too tired to actually move there.  
It was just that he didn't care. About anything.  
It was ridiculous - Why would he NOT be allowed to burn down a simple piece of paper?  
Why would it be more important than him?  
Wasn't he a human being as well?

Blindly, he reached behind him until his fingers met another piece of paper - his notice of instant dismissal which had already been prepared oh-so-conveniently.  
Slowly, he held it to the flame to keep it burning, to let it eat away all those offending words.  
The dismissal, the eviction. What about the rest?  
He got up to stumble across his room until he reached the corner where glittering glass was spread out. Numbly reaching into the mess, he reached for the photo he had never meant to see again.  
Chanyeol limped back, ripped it in two and let himself burn first before he added the part of his laughing friend almost gently.  
The school's letter of rejection followed, easily fading into black as it quickly curled at the edges and into oblivion.  
What else?  
There must be something else, since he could still feel dissatisfaction rumbling through his veins.  
Ah, right. His mother who saw him as a burden and his father who's words would forever echo in his head, alongside the ringing of the phone. Carelessly he threw in his phone and watched the surface crack under the heat with an uncanny fascination. That little thing was so expensive, yet so easily destroyed.  
His very last connection to the outside world was severed so easily.  
  
_"Anyone there? Hello~?"_  
  
As the plastic began to melt it emitted an aggressive dark smoke that left Chanyeol coughing.  
It got worse as he added his old laptop that wouldn't have been of help in an Art school anyway.  
His worn-out shoes.  
His old padded jacket that had so many ripped and poorly patched spots.  
That old shirt that had been his ex-girlfriend's favourite.  
Beautiful flames were licking at his wounds in an attempt to heal him.  
What else?  
Was that it? With squinting eyes he searched the room through thick smoke, wiping his tears with his sweaty arms.  
  
_"Hello?"_  
  
His gaze fell on a finished paper crane he had made for Baekhyun.  
Baekhyun.  
Maybe the time to finish all of this had come once and for all. He would finally overstep the border.  
Blindly he reached through the smoke until he grasped the ratty old house phone. Scrambling down in front of the TV, he coughed once more as he searched the screen for the number to call.  
But the huge writings that always flew over the screen in such an obnoxious way seemed so unreadable through the smoke.  
  
_"HELLO? Answer me!"_  
  
He scooted closer until the bottom line was legible enough. Upon reading it, his eyes widened, accepting more of the biting smoke.  
_\- This is a re-run! Please do not call anymore! -_  
His fuzzy mind seemed to sober up a little when his body was suffering from another brutal coughing fit that made him retch.  
  
_"A-ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! That's it, I'm coming in now!"_  
  
Suddenly a violent thud interrupted the peaceful blubbering of the TV and the crackling of flames. Another one and something seemed to break. His vision was far too bleary to make anything out.  
Suddenly his arms were gripped harshly and he was tugged up and dragged away.  
Further and further, until his bare feet met the cold tiles of their hallway where the strong fingers allowed him to sink down again.  
With ragged breathing and the swirling feeling of nausea, he leaned his head against the equally cool wall, trying hard not to vomit whenever a coughing fit would overcome his weak body.  
Meanwhile he heard a distant voice cursing.  
  
_"GOD, don't you have anything?! A bucket, cooking pots, ANYTHING?! Fuck-"_  
  
More muffled sounds reached his ear, accompanied by fizzling noises.  
The air in the hallway was starting to fill with smoke, but it was still clearer than before and protected Chanyeol from losing consciousness. More fizzing noises later he heard the familiar sound of his old and shabby windows being pushed open quite violently, followed by foreign coughing.  
Finally a door opened and a grumpy teenager stepped out, obviously disturbed in his sleep since he was still wearing pyjamas.  
"What's going on here?", he asked with heavily underlying annoyance.  
A slim figure glid out of his room and placed the door back in the frame. Chanyeol barely noticed that it had been broken down in the first place.  
"Nothing. We just had a little cooking accident. Please don't report us."  
"What the fuck are you even cooking at 4 in the morning? And what's with that door? ...Fuck, I hate this house-", he trailed off angrily and staggered back into his room to slam his door shut.  
  
When the echo had faded, silence fell upon the two boys. Silence. No people, no traffic, no TV. It had been quite long since it had been conveniently silent like that, he dully noted.  
With a deep sigh his saviour slid down the wall to sit next to him.  
No one felt like breaking the beautiful silence. Blinking rapidly until his eyes were finally able to open up without burning, Chanyeol tried to regain control over his ragged breathing.  
His mind was still muddy but he began to understand that it was Baekhyun sitting next to him. When he looked over at him, he saw Baekhyun throwing his head back against the wall, eyes closed.  
As always he looked oh-so-heart wrenchingly tired.  
Chanyeol attempted to subtly clear his dry throat multiple times, only to be sent coughing again.  
Finally he managed to croak out a few syllables.  
  
"I-I knew... the answer..."  
  
Bright eyes opened to look at him.  
"I saw that."  
Hazily, Chanyeol nodded.  
"The question was far too easy anyway...", Baekhyun mumbled bitterly and slowly got up.  
Again, Chanyeol nodded. Then he shot a confused look at the offered hand.  
Baekhyun almost seemed impatient as he dragged the lanky frame up once more. He was stronger than he looked like. What an interesting piece of information.  
Somewhere in the back of his head his brain noted that he was being delirious but he was too incapacitated to actually process the fact.  
"Don't give me that look. God, you weigh less than that stupid clipboard they use, do you even eat?" Not getting a response beside a slightly hollow gaze, he began to tug him towards the door next to Chanyeol's now demolished one.  
He easily opened up and attempted to proceed inside only to be stopped by Chanyeol, who's lanky limbs refused to follow.  
Sighing in exhaustion, the blonde turned around.  
"Come on, you can't sleep in the hallway and don't even get me started on that room of yours."  
"I-it's ok. I'll just-"  
"Not listening! Now come on in."  
  
And so Chanyeol was manhandled into a foreign apartment and pushed towards the shower.  
"I'm not letting dirty people in my bed. Can you shower on your own? Need any help?"  
Baekhyun's voice was neutral and if he thought Chanyeol was being a bother, Chanyeol couldn't tell. It made him anxious to say the least.  
"Uhm... No, no I can do it. I can do it."  
"Haaah... Okay, then. I put some fresh clothing here. Call me if you need me, 'kay?"  
"O-okay."

Chanyeol deeply cherished every droplet of the amazingly hot water that washed away the ash, the sweat, and the dirt.  
While the steam in the shower increased, his mind-in contrast-began to clear up bit by bit. He really should feel horrified at the thought of almost killing himself but instead he couldn't stop freaking out over the fact that he was showering in Byun Baekhyun's house. That thought alone was more surreal than anything that had ever happened to him.  
What was he going to do? He should leave as soon as possible-  
"Yah, Park Chanyeol! You're using up all of my hot water!"  
Immediately he turned off the water with a guilty face he knew the blonde wouldn't be able to see.  
"I-I'm sorry!", he yelled back hesitatingly.  
"I was joking, man! I was just worried you might've drowned by now!"  
"Oh... Okay then. I didn't."  
Baekhyun, who had sounded rather harsh and strict so far, sounded almost amused as he replied.  
"Obviously."

He dressed agonizingly slow, fretting about the moment he had to face Baekhyun.  
It took so long that the mirror began to clear up again, enabling him to throw a glance at his pathethic appearance.  
A skinny, roughed up and sleep-deprived boy stared back at him, looking a little lost.  
That was exactly what Chanyeol felt like. Lost.  
Shakily, he padded back into the main area which was easily found due to their similar apartment structure. Baekhyun stood at a nearby shelf, where he was fumbling with something. He stepped behind him and lightly gasped in recognition at the paper crane that sat on top of a huge glass jar. There was a number of cranes inside the jar. Familiar ones made of old receipts and flyers and more delicate, colorful ones he hadn't seen before.  
The newest one, however, was placed separatly on the jar's closed lid.  
"That one was for me, wasn't it?", Baekhyun asked nonchalantly as he lifted his head to look at him from behind.  
Chanyeol gave an affirmative mumble, squeezing his eyes shut to mentally prepare himself for the speech that was to come. That he was a creepy stalker who should really leave immediately.  
Nothing came, though, and when he finally opened his eyes he was met with the bright orbs of Baekhyun who had turned towards him, observing him calmly. He didn't seem infuriated or appalled. Whatever complex emotion swirled inside his eyes, Chanyeol didn't understand.  
Suddenly the blonde turned away to leave for the bathroom.  
"Gotta shower. You can just lie down on the bed. Just sleep, you don't need to wait for me. And don't you dare even try looking for a couch."  
  
Half an hour later, when Chanyeol lay on a soft mattress with his arms encircling the slim frame of Baekhyun, he was still having an internal battle. Chanyeol wasn't sure if he should finally ask the questions that were burning on his tongue.  
His whole body was still kind of stiff at the touch of the shorter one who was whole-heartedly wrapping his arms around him and breathing steadily with his eyes closed.  
His slightly damp blonde hair was framing his face in a way Chanyeol had never seen before. The calm and peaceful sight was also something completly unfamiliar. And it was nothing short of beautiful.  
Chanyeol found it hard to grasp reality. It was too amazing to be true. Not only did he feel clean, refreshed and secure; Baekhyun smelled intoxicatingly sweet and his skin was soft and warm and Chanyeol didn't even remember anyone touching him that gently in a long, long time. Which made his question all the more urgent.  
"Uhm... Why are you doing this?"  
Baekhyun didn't even open an eye.  
"Why wouldn't I?", he sleepily said back and rubbed a few lazy circles on Chanyeol's back.  
"I... Don't you think I'm... I'm... Creepy?", Chanyeol trailed off into a whisper, once again bracing himself for the verbal abuse sure to come.  
But the blonde just gave a placent hum.  
"Mmmh... Maybe. Don't know. Maybe you're a psycho. Maybe you'll kill me in my sleep. Or rape me...", Baekhyun mumbled lazily, nuzzling his face into Chanyeol's collarbones which sent a shiver running down his spine.  
"Don't care... I'll still take my payment for helping you..."  
"W-what payment?", he stammered insecurely.  
But the blonde only drew himself a little closer, inhaling his scent before answering with a voice muffled by their close proximity.  
"You sleeping here. I hate sleeping alone. You're not allowed to leave before breakfast..."  
A blush crept on Chanyeol's cheeks. Instead of answering, he scurried a little closer to gently embrace the fragile-looking boy in his too-large pyjama in a protective manner.  
He didn't know what it was that he was protecting him from, but it was okay.

Shortly before his fuzzy mind could fall into a deep sleep, he heard himself mumbling:  
"Do you remember that one quiz...? That saying that began like 'Home is where...'?"  
He received a drowsy hum as a response.  
"Mh... _**I remember**_."

He said nothing more and neither did Chanyeol.  
Silence filled the room as all questions had been answered.


	2. The questions left unanswered

  
The soft guitar songs of one of Bakehyun's recent favourite bands, Akdong Musician, filled the dark room with the distinct bad audio quality of an outdated smart phone.  
  
 _Do I need to get up?  
          - Yes._  
  
The sun has already set and the bathroom light is bright and artificial as Baekhyun tiredly rubs the sleep from his eyes and reaches for his toothbrush.  
  
 _Do I need to dress presentably?  
          - No._  
  
Half-heartedly reaching for a loose hoodie he slurches into the kitchen to fix himself a quick snack and leave the house.  
  
 _Is it gonna be exciting?_  
          - No.

 

* * *

  
  
Byun Baekhyun's world was as clear as a chess board. There was black and white, equally spread out.  
He knew what he wanted and what he didn't.  
He knew whom he liked and whom he didn't.  
What he was supposed to do, to say, to think, he knew it all.  
Whenever he felt pressured or cornered he would simply pause, take a deep breath and ask himself:  
 _Is this what I want?  
Is this neccessary?  
Is this worth it?_  
He would come to an easy answer - Yes or No.  
In the end it always came down to a Yes or a No.  
Though it's still up to debation whether the answer actually made a difference.  
  
 _Do I look forward to tomorrow?_

 

* * *

 

"...Aaand that's a wrap! As always, good work everyone, see you all tomorrow!"  
It only took a mere ten minutes for Baekhyun to get out of the stuffy studio and change back into his loose grey sweater and faded jeans while politely dodging all attempts at conversation by his co-workers. It was a well-trained routine of his. Gone were the sweaty palms, the nervous smiles and the uncertainty.  
 _Will I be able to do it?  
Is it going to be fun?  
Are they going to like me?_  
Yes, No and No. Well, his co-workers were always friendly. There was a gentle-looking camera man who kept track on his well-being during the live-recording. A pretty stylist who occasionally asked him out for group outings only to get rejected. A perpetually tired and middle-aged product expert who kept making up horrible puns for him to use.  
Surely they were all friendly.  
  
 _But does being polite mean a thing?  
          - No._  
  
As soon as he stepped out into the chilly air of an upcoming dawn and away from all the people, he lifted his arm to smear away the caky and oily layer of make-up from his face. It totally ruined the fabric but Baekhyun was far too exhausted to care. Besides that it was about 4 in the morning and no one was going to see him anyway.  
Then he sighed and a puff of white filled the air, as small and transient as he himself felt.  
He plugged in his earbuds and began his short journey home, hiding his cold fingers in the generous pockets of his hoodie.  
These moments were simply the worst.  
Hours of smiling, laughing and pretending to be a quirky and energetic person who loves his job was exhausting. But it was always the aftermath of slowly walking home in the early morning on his hurting feet through the silent and deserted streets when he felt truly emotionally drained.  
It was these moments that the loneliness was so tangible, so real. It didn't slap him across the cold cheeks for that would origin from a sudden nature. In fact it felt more like a weight settling in his lung, then his head, and lastly his limbs. Maybe the weight wasn't crushing, but it was perpetually draining. And well, maybe Baekhyun was just weak.  
But deep down he also harboured this equally heavy feeling of certainty. No matter how tired he was, he would always be aware of this one fact.  
  
 _Am I lonely?  
          - Yes._  
  
 _Is it alright?  
          - Yes._  
  
And with this thought in mind he would always make it home and reach his apartment, without stopping in his tracks even once.  
  
 _Am I alright?_

 

* * *

 

Byun Baekhyun was 22 years old and as accomplished and stable as you could get at a young age like that. He had a stable income and a sufficiently sized apartment with proper furniture. His working hours as a late-night TV host were unusual at best but Seoul was a very lively city and he hardly struggled with any opening hours.  
Though it might seem like an exciting life for most people his age who spend their time struggling with university, older people tended to immediately ask him questions.  
"Doesn't it get dire?"  
"Do you really want to do this for the rest of your life?"  
"Isn't it hard to associate with others?"  
Baekhyun hated questions. Just when he tought he was done with stupid questions at his job, they followed him home.  
Of course he'd had greater plans. Why else would he bustle through his life with nothing but his high school graduation certificate? Did they want to make fun of him? Rub it in a little more?  
In cases like these you couldn't just give an honest answer because that would result in pity and judging whispers behind his back.  
But who was he fooling anyway? People were already talking about the un-educated young man who probably lived off his looks, preferebly using innocent and naive young women.  
He could basically hear them talking, read their spiteful messenges they sent each other whilst he was in the same room, smiling cluelessly.

Byun Baekhyun disliked not knowing where he stood.

It was the thing he hated most in the world.  
Not knowing whether the kindness people proclaimed was genuine or not was making him uneasy. He felt uncomfortable and pressured in a group that included people he wasn't sure how to read.  
It didn't really matter whether it was about strangers, friends or even family members.  
People smiled, behaved friendly and showed interest. But in the end it was all faked and they went up to others to brag about their own kindness and expose the fake behaviour... Just to switch to the next act, reserved for a different person.  
It must be part of the human nature. Desperately trying to look good in front of others as well as yourself to avoid your reasonable self-esteem from pushing you into depressions.  
Baekhyun had learnt his lesson. It didn't need an overly clisheed plot taken from a TV drama, but he had gathered his fair share of experiences. The blonde wasn't stupid and definitely not one to endlessly repeat the same mistakes.

Byun Baekhyun had exactly 2 contacts in his phone; one being his boss and the second one his mother - though he only kept the latter so he'd accept her rare phone calls.  
And he knew exactly where he stood.  
  
 _Am I all alone?_

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun let out a small sigh of relief when he finally entered the building's hallway and let the cold air behind the automatic door.  
Even though the sky had begun to brighten up he switched on the light as he went over to the mailboxes.  
There was nothing but a supermarkt prospect inside. Baekhyun made a non-commital hum as he reached for it when his gaze travelled over his neighbour's mailbox. As it was so often the case, there was a large letter half-heartedly stuffed into the far too-small box. And once again it looked like a payment reminder.  
His neighbour always received lots of letters. It wasn't uncommon that his box was stuffed like that and by now Baekhyun was sure he sometimes just chose to ignore the letters for a few days until they piled up so much that they began to fall out again.  
He was about to leave when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Instinctively, the blonde kept standing in front of the mailboxes and when the steps entered the hallway he shuffled around a little, pretending to stash away the cheap prospect in an unneccessarily orderly fashion.  
There was only one person he ever ran into on his way to or from work.  
The steps came closer and very soon a tall figure stood next to him, casting a shadow over the obnoxiously colorful paper in his hands.  
Baekhyun looked up and was met with the sight of exactly the same person who kept ignoring his mailbox.  
The blonde would have liked to think that he chose today to empty it because he found him standing here.  
An uncertain look was thrown his way and Baekhyun smiled.  
"Good morning." he said in a quiet, but friendly manner.  
"Uh. Good morning."  
Park Chanyeol's voice was always deep whenever he met him on his way to work in the evenings. But when he returned in the morning and his neighbour had just gotten up it was even deeper and raspy from sleep.  
It was a really attractive voice that hit all the right spots inside Baekhyun with only a few syllables.  
He knew he probably looked like shit, but the tall boy still gave him a wide, albeit shy smile.  
Then he reached out to take out all the letters in a hasty movement, as if he felt embarrassed about them. Meanwhile Baekhyun really couldn't find another reason to draw out his leave and slowly turned away to take the stairs when that wonderful voice called out to him once more, a little less sleepy now.  
"Uhm. T-take a good rest. I mean have a nice day. You know."  
Grinning at the nervous rambling, he turned over his shoulder to throw back a quick  
"Thanks, you too!", before making his way back home to finally get his well-deserved sleep and officially end his day while Park Chanyeol went to work and started his.

While he lay in bed, his tall and clumsy neighbour was the last, vague thing on his mind before he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Park Chanyeol's voice wasn't his best asset. Personally, he preferred his eyes. They were really big and whenever he looked at him they seemed so clear and shiny.  
It wasn't that Chanyeol was that dreamy guy you only get as your neighbour in a cheesy romance story.  
Actually most people wouldn't have regarded him like Baekhyun did.  
Chanyeol was tall but lanky, to the point of looking scrawny. He had kinda large ears, a perpetually messy mop of brown curls and un-healthily pale skin. It might have to do with the fact he mostly met the guy in the morning, but he usually seemed very tired and exhausted.  
Maybe Baekhyun didn't see him all too-often, and maybe that was the reason why he noticed him getting thinner and thinner as the weeks went by.  
Sometimes he wondered how those large hands could still carry the suit bag that obviously contained his working uniform.

Baekhyun liked Chanyeol, in a weird way.  
The tall guy was always friendly, but not obtrusive. He also got a certain vibe off him he couldn't quite interpret yet.  
While he rolled around in his generously plush blankets he stared at the opposing wall of his room.  
Behind that wall was his apartment.  
Baekhyun wasn't silly and by now he figured the boy might have a crush on him.  
Once in a while, on the rare nights he spend home, he would try to listen to the happenings next door and was quite sure he heard his (forsaken) quiz show playing the usual re-runs.  
Sometimes he wondered how the guy had his preferences figured out, but it didn't really matter. Since he wasn't planning on getting attached to anyone. People lusting for him wasn't all that rare and whereas Baekhyun trusted no one with his thoughts, he most certainly wouldn't bare his heart.  
Up to that day Baekhyun had never been approached by him, had never been called at his job  and never heard any obscene sounds coming from his apartment, thank god.  
Maybe Park Chanyeol seemed innocent and pure, but no one really was.

Still, he liked that there was a person who somehow acknowledged his existence in a quiet and non-committal way.  
  
 _Am I all alone?_  
          -Yes.  
  
But still...

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun's days were a never-ending string of repetition and blandness, so even tiny changes that might seem insignificant to others had a big impact on him.  
It had been an exceptionally horrid day. For some reason his mood was down and the lack of company he had so desperately tried to get used to really got under his skin. How he survived the recordings, he didn't know. He felt like breaking down with every shallow smile and stupid joke.  
When he reached the apartment building, his tears and the furious rubbing with his sleeves had already created a mess of whatever make up he had been wearing.  
It were moments like these when he really wished he could see his neighbour, even though at the same time he feared having to face him. Would he maybe talk to him? Ask him what was wrong?  
No, he thought as he silently shook his head. He was far too shy and distanced. Probably he would just grin awkwardly and leave him alone. A reasonable thing to do, considering their non-existent relationship.  
  
Sometimes Baekhyun was tired of being left alone.  
But that's what you get in turn for leaving people alone.  
That's what you get for being an insensitive ass.  
That's the price of not getting hurt.

He really didn't run into Chanyeol. Well, he rarely did. Instead he encountered something different. On his doorstep sat a small paper crane. Curiously he picked it up. It looked like it had been made of some sort of prospect paper with colorful frames and bits of flowers.  
It couldn't be a coincidence that he found it today of all days.  
Maybe he should feel crept out at the fact that the boy seemed to have noticed his bad mood. But maybe...  
He carefully reached for the sticky note beneath it.

**1/1000**

  
Baekhyun was still crying a little when he turned it to see the huge "Fighting!!" written on the back. But he also smiled.  
And the next day he went out to buy some colorful origami paper.

 

* * *

 

From that day on, Baekhyun learnt how to fold paper cranes.  
It was a well-known tradition to obtain a wish through folding a thousand of them. Baekhyun's fingers were delicate and he had no trouble in folding the small sheets of paper. Sometimes he admired the fact that Chanyeol's huge hands were able to do it so well. Once again the blonde indulged himself in the hopes that he just folded them with care. Care that was directed at him.  
Every day, he would find a new paper crane waiting for him on his door step. He never spoke up about it and neither did his neighbour. It should be awkward, but it wasn't.  
For a person as private as Baekhyun this was a comfortable way of tip-toeing the borders.  
He always smiled at the little sticky notes counting them. Sometimes, there were tiny decorations scribbled around the numbers. Of course Chanyeol wasn't aware that Baekhyun had the same amount already folded by himself.  
Occasionally he entertained the thought of writing down the actual number, to show his participation, but in the end he never did.  
Even with two cranes per day it would take more than a year to reach the thousand.  
One day, Chanyeol would forget it or simply give up on it. Yeah, he certainly would get tired of it.  
Then Baekhyun would complete them by himself and make the vow not to rely on others anymore.  
If Chanyeol really went through with it until the end, though...  
...Then he would make the last one and return them to him so he could get a wish fulfilled. If there was any person that selfless, it would only be fair.  
Besides that the mere experience of someone caring for him that much would have granted him a wish already, in a way.  
He would return them all but the very first.  
It was selfish, but Baekhyun figured it would be alright.

So he continued to fold one neat paper crane everyday. And somewhere along the line he began to make up possible wishes for each and every one of them, writing them down on spare origami paper.  
Maybe one day he would figure out which one he desired most.  
Sometimes it were just immature thoughts that had plagued him throughout the day.  
  
 _"I wish people would stop asking me stupid questions."  
"I wish my colleague would stop hitting on me."_  
  
Sometimes, when he felt a little melancholic, his wishes expressed different parts of him though.  
  
 _"I wish I could care."_  
"I wish for people to be more accepting."

_"I wish to meet just one person who is genuine to the core."_

And so Baekhyun went on and on, silently wondering what Park Chanyeol might be wishing for.

 

* * *

  
He was sitting at his wooden desk, the only source of light being the soft yellow rays from a plain desk lamp, and carefully folding the 86th paper crane when a numb crash disturbed the silence.  
Flinching, his head shot up to look at the wall separating him from his neighbour.  
For a few seconds, nothing happened and he began to wonder whether it was just his imagination.  
Then another thud came, followed by something that sounded like breaking glass. Baekhyun froze in his movement as the sounds slowly ebbed down. He rarely ever heard a sound from there that wasn't the Tv.  
Very slowly he got up, leaving the half-folded dotted piece of blue paper behind and went over to the wall. Careful not to make any noises, he leaned his head against the wall and tried not to feel like a stalker.  
It was silent. Baekhyun closed his eyes and concentrated.  
He felt like he heard something very quiet.  
Then the tinkering sound of broken glass moving was heard and... Ragged breathing? Maybe sobbing? Definitely sobbing.  
For a second he withdrew his head in bewilderment, then he leaned back in again.  
He was really crying.  
For some reason, this realization pierced him painfully. It hurt.  
 _Why was he crying?_  
'I should do something.' he thought hurriedly, before remembering that he had no reason to ring at his door.  
And then it hit him.  
Even though Park Chanyeol was his only excuse of a social contact, he knew absolutely nothing about him.  
It was painfully obvious that his life was far from being all sunshine and rainbows. He could tell just by looking at his scrawny body and the dark circles under his eyes. And still... He knew nothing.  
  
Baekhyun spent the following two hours sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, both arms hugging his legs tightly to his chest as he listened to the muffled sounds of his neighbour's emotional breakdown.  
  
Two hours full of re-thinking.  
The most prominent feeling was the nagging shame at his own presumptiousness. His ignorance knew no end, obviously. Somewhere along the way he had started to imagine having some sort of connection with his neighbour when in fact, there was none. None at all.  
Maybe Chanyeol really cared about him, even if his ways might be questionable. And he had given him so much. It might only have been small gestures like wishing him a nice day or folding him paper cranes from old receipts, but still... All those little things managed to brighten his days sufficiently.  
And what had he given him in return? Nothing. He was taking him for granted and only thought about himself.  
Even in this exact moment he was solely thinking about himself while he was there, suffering, so close yet untouchable. He violently ruffled his hair in frustration.

From that day on, Baekhyun didn't write any more of his wishes onto the daily sticky notes. Instead he wrote down wishes for his unhappy-looking neighbour.

_"I wish that you have reasons to be happy."  
"I wish you could rest a little more."_

_"I wish that you don't stop smiling."_

But still, he didn't approach him. He had been a horrible person who didn't deserve any attention in the first place. Actually he had turned into those type of people he despised the most.  
Baekhyun vowed to work on himself and folded the cranes more diligently than ever, looking forward to the day he could face Park Chanyeol as a person who wasn't ashamed of himself.  
  
 _Do I know myself?_  
          - Yes.  
  
Do I know Park Chanyeol?  
          - No.

_Can I change myself?_

 

* * *

 

As it was so often the case, Baekhyun was exhausted. The pre-recordings had taken their toll on the whole team but since the blonde was the main host it was straining him greatly. All the hours spent in a small, artificial plastic world full of nonsense questions would one day drive him insane.  
It was almost four in the morning when he padded up the stairs, leaving the forever out-of-service elevator behind.  
  
At the third floor he first noticed the faint smell of something burnt. Wrinkling his nose in distate he continued on his way. It only grew more intense though. When he arrived at the fourth floor the hallway was already slightly covered in smoke. All alarms went off in his head as he hurried his steps down the hall where he found his suspicions confirmed - the smoke came from his neighbour's room.  
It wasn't drastic enough for people to call the police just yet. Maybe that's why no one had noticed it.  
'Or maybe people just don't care to notice anything happening outside their apartment', a bitter voice inside his head whispered.  
 _Would you have noticed it if you had been at home?_  
He didn't follow these thoughts as he stretched out his hand to knock at the door for the first time.  
 

* * *

  
He never knew what to imagine, but definitely not something like this.  
Chanyeol's apartment was so run-down it was absurd to think that he lived next door to him. While desperately searching for some sort of pot or container to put out the small fire he found absolutely nothing in his kitchen shelves and resulted to a small plastic bucket he found with the cleaning supplies crammed into a small cupboard.  
The fire wasn't that huge and showed little resistance besides the aggressive hissing noises and generous amount of the characteristically poisonous-smelling smoke you got when burning plastic and the likes.  
Instead of dwelling too long on the questionable smoking remains he had burnt in the middle of his room Baekhyun immediately rushed to push open the window. Which showed far more resistance than the door he had kicked open.  
And while he gasped for air, coughing out all of the vicious smoke he inhaled and wiping his teary eyes, the room began to clear up a bit.  
Chanyeol's apartment consisted of almost nothing but a few cheap and very much used pieces of furniture like a single chair, a simple bed and a closet with one door missing, a low table that had been pushed aside to burn... whatever it was that he had burnt. It had stood between an old sofa and a ridiculously old-fashioned TV set.  
Which was playing a re-run of an older episode of his quiz show. The blonde shuddered in distaste at his horrible appearance until his eyes travelled to the question written on the clip board.  
"How do you kill a witch?"  
'With fire' he thought.  
With fire.  
He threw another sad look at the depressing apartment, all sorts of emotions meshing together in his head. There were still a couple of broken glass fragments on the floor, but not a trace of food or pictures, or... Anything personal, really  
When he didn't feel like suffocating anymore, he made his way to the door. The blonde stopped in his tracks when his gaze fell upon a lone paper crane sitting on top of the TV. It looked a little crumpled as if it had been placed there in haste. At least it had been sheltered from the fire. Baekhyun gently picked it up and joined Chanyeol in the hallway.

And it was that moment, when they both sat on the floor in the middle of the hallway like idiots, and his neighbour uttered that he had known the answer to the quiz and had Baekhyun looking at him. Into the innocent face of someone truly lost and hopeless with shining brown orbs swimming with anxiety and exhaustion.  
That moment when he truly had time to take in his whole appearance Baekhyun thought nothing but:

_Do I know Park Chanyeol?  
          - No._

_But damn, wouldn't I like to._

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun was a little suprised at himself considering how easily he had manhandled the taller guy into his apartment and how naturally he was lying beside him right now. It had been a long time since he felt as small as he did then, with his hands grasping the soft fabric of Chanyeol's pyjama, hugging his lanky frame tightly.  
It was simply amazing to feel another person's proximity and warmth after such a long time.  
Not able to hold back he sighed as he nuzzled himself closer, sleepily searching for even more warmth. For the first time his spacious and fluffy bed felt endlessly comfortable.  
He was about to drift off into a deep sleep when Chanyeol shyly spoke up once more.

"I... Don't you think I'm... I'm... Creepy?"  
 _  
    - No._

Baekhyun thought about it. And found that he didn't care at all. He told him it was alright and it really was. Even if Chanyeol were to kill him that night... It would be alright.  
Because he had long ago decided that he'd trust this curious guy. If he got betrayed and hurt, then so be it.  
This would be the very last time Byun Baekhyun would trust someone. So if it killed him it would still be alright.  
And the incredible feeling of safety and belonging he felt as he was securely embraced by far too-thin arms was incomparable and he decided it was worth the risk.

"Do you remember that one quiz...? That saying that began like 'Home is where...'?"

  _\- Yes._

Baekhyun remembered. He also decided to give Chanyeol the paper cranes in the morning, along with the wishes. It was his decision to make.  
I'll bare myself, he thought as he tried to calm his painfully heavy heartbeat.  
Just one last time.  
I'll just have faith.

 

 

  
_Am I alright?_

_\- Yes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaand this was part 2! ♥  
>  While Chanyeol was suffering from depressions, Baekhyun obviously has trust issues.  
> It may sound trivial compared to depressions, but I think that's a misconception.  
> It's one of those problems that are too-easily overlooked even though it has a severe impact on many people. It's something that doesn't need some traumatising experiences to trigger you.
> 
> That was it for now - I hope you guys enjoyed it.   
> Any form of feedback is appreciated ♥
> 
> Love,  
> Sugar_and_Salt ♥


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